The Mating.

Sounded like the rollerbladers on the terrace
It was the roar from the sky, His grace.

The longing seemed over
No pity for the harried, the hapless
Darting under the shades for cover.

It is dark and still
Suddenly, the trees sway
The cool breeze is a give away
The dark clouds, up for grab
The silver streaks
Dispel the drab.

The streaks of lightening
A tad frightening
Flashes of brilliance
Such blinding radiance
His presence now a credence
Heavens a Incandescence?

The gates opened the heavens poured
The birds, wet and shivering, nestled deep, as it roared

The sweet scent of the wet sand
Of the now satiated, parched land
The eyes lowered, mellow and shut
Under the ledge of the hand

Rain drops a shimmering
Earth a little coy, now clamouring
End of the longing
Behold the mating.